Page 63 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“Because I’ll be so very sad if ye dae that,” Elaine told him. She stood up, her hands on her hips, her little face screwed up in irritation. “An’ very angry, an’ all! Listen to me, Dadaidh, Maggie is the best thing we’ve ever had in this castle! She kens the best games, an’ she saved me in the lake, an’—”
“Elaine—” Nathair tried to cut in, but she kept up her rant, building her tantrum in the way only a child of her age could.
“An’! An’! Uncle William and Auntie Abbie like her an’ all!An’she’s got Sir Spindrift now, an’ Laird Softpaws is hisbrother,Dadaidh, and ye justcannaesplit them up! Ye cannae, ye cannae!”
“Elaine,” Magnolia said softly. It was clear from her expression she hadn’t expected such a reaction, and she felt terrible for upsetting the girl. “Darling, that isn’t what I meant.”
Nathair reached over and pulled Elaine into a tight hug, holding her close until she calmed down like he always did when she got worked up like this. When he was sure she was breathing a little more regularly, he said, “Are ye ready to listen now?”
The little girl nodded mutely against his chest.
“I’m nae gonnae send Magnolia away,” he told her, stroking her hair. “In fact, I’d quite like it if she stayed forever, too.”
He was speaking to Elaine, but as he said that last part, his eyes were fixed on Magnolia’s. The woman’s bright blue eyes widened at whatever implication she’d taken from his words–and, in truth, Nathair wasn’t sure what he’d meant by them himself.
Elaine pulled back to scrutinize him. “Really, Dadaidh? Are ye tellin’ me true?”
He made a cross over his heart. “Truer than true, me chook. Magnolia’s yer nanny, and ye care about her. I wouldnae split ye up. Or Sir Softpaws and Laird Spindrift!”
Elaine giggled. “Ye got their names wrong, Dadaidh,” she said, accepting the glass of crushed apple cider that Magnolia handed her.
“Och, I’ll remember one o’ these days,” he chuckled. “Drink yer cider and eat yer supper now, there’s a good lass.”
The three of them talked lightheartedly, though Nathair’s eyes kept sweeping to Magnolia, and he was thrilled to notice she was doing the same. It was all so fresh, so new, so strange.
He knew he had no regrets about the previous night or what they’d done this morning. Did she? Was he too hopeful to think that her gentle smile meant that she did not?
God above, Nathair, ye sound like a boy o’ five-and-ten again.
Nathair was happy that they were here, he and Magnolia and Elaine, sitting and eating and talking and comfortable. He wouldn’t deny, though, that part of him was eager to send the child to bed so that he and Magnolia could revisit this morning’s activities.
Eventually, something appeared to occur to Elaine. “But Dadaidh,” she said, in that way she did where she expected everyone to keep up with her exact level of conversation. “What abou’ when I grow up? I willnae need a nanny then.”
“That’s true,” Nathair said seriously. His heart leaped in his chest like a cricket as he caught Magnolia’s eyes once again. “I wouldnae worry too much abou’ that right now though, me chook. I have a feelin’ there may be another way to get her to stick around.”
Magnolia’s eyes widened slightly. “Another way, My Laird?” she asked, the question sounding almost like a challenge.
Nathair smirked and winked at her.
Ye arenae the only one who kens how to tease.
* * *
After an hour or so, Elaine started to get sleepy, and Magnolia walked with Nathair as he carried the little girl up to her bedroom. She was sleeping soundly by the time that they arrived and tucked her into bed.
When they left and stood in the corridor, there was a mildly awkward pause. Magnolia opened her mouth to speak. “Nathair—”
“Magnolia—” he started at the exact same time.
They both stopped abruptly, then looked at each other and laughed.
“Are ye all right?” he asked her. “Ye’re nae…havin’ regrets?”
“No,” she said quickly. She needed Nathair to know that it was true. She regretted a lot, but not him. Whatever happened, whatever secrets she had buried just under the surface that were threatening the happiness she’d found, she’d never regret giving herself to him.
But I will. I will regret it when I must choose between him or my home. Him or my Father.
The corner of Nathair’s lip twitched. “Good,” he said, “me neither.”
